A Wounded Man
by Miracles79
Summary: Every man has their doubts, their moments of weakness, but what if that one moment of weakness could cause you to question your beliefs and intentions. (A thorough look into the man behind the legend as he confronts the Reaper known as Harbinger) Miranda x M Shepard romance


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Mass Effect

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A Wounded Man

By Miracles79

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One shot: Harbinger's judgement

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Disclaimer: The property of Mass Effect and its Universe do not belong to me, I am merely a fan, the characters and property belong solely to Bioware.

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"Shepard…"

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…

"Shepard…"

A voice, a distant pleading voice, called to him from within the spanning darkness. That voice, that was all the Commander could hear across the war torn battlefield where the sounds of repeated gunfire continued to permeate the air around him. Despite the Commander's grogginess, he couldn't help but feel like he knew that voice. It sounded faintly familiar, and oddly panicked, but he couldn't for the life of him remember who it belonged to or why they required his assistance.

"Ahh!"

Suddenly to his surprise, a crippling bout of pain ripped through the very core of his being. His shoulder, thigh and stomach throbbing with piercing pain as his face contorted into an expression of sheer anguish at this unexpected sensation continued to heighten and course throughout his system.

"Shepard…Shepard…"

A new voice presented itself, panicked like the last and yet equally familiar at the same time. Forgetting his pain for the moment Shepard attempted to locate its source, its point of derivation, but all he saw was sickening darkness. All he felt were his heavy eye lids refusing to open at his commands. Perhaps this was the result of exhaustion which affected his body's mobility more so that the pain which he was slowly growing accustomed to.

Just as he thought this a new bout of pain shot through his body, wracking him of his breath and senses. In response Shepard's eyes shot open, his shoulder throbbing far more intensely then it had been before; his eyes observing bullets and particle beams crossing one another in varying sequence, looming unsettlingly close to him.

Without having time to acclimatise himself to his new, admittedly dangerous, surroundings; nausea consumed him. The Commander's body becoming crippled due to the combined traumas of both nausea and pain overwhelming his senses. Not even understanding why this agony was occurring in the first place. Shepard had not felt any bullets or particle beams penetrate his armour, nor his skin, since the time he regained consciousness.

So why was he in so much pain?

And why was there pain to begin with?

Shepard's hands promptly drifted to his most visible injuries, attempting to alleviate as much of the pain as possible. Before his eyes followed his hands frantic movement, his fingers tracing riddled skin, as he finally observed the damage which had been inflicted upon his person.

From one brief inspection of his injuries, Shepard knew he was in serious trouble. He had been gravelly injured and was in need of immediate medical attention, medical attention which was not forthcoming. A shower of bullets had been lodged painfully between his clavicle and shoulder, the injury bleeding profusely due to a lack of professional treatment.

His thigh badly singed by a particle beam which revealed sickly burnt flesh as well as bone and decaying muscle fibres; Shepard grimaced at the sight which he had seen many a time in war. Before turning his attention to where the real damage was situated, to his stomach which was throbbing to a greater intensity then all his other injuries.

Within Shepard's stomach lay a single Particle wound lodged deep within his abdomen. While this injury may not have sounded as painful as the others, you couldn't have been more wrong. The Particle beam had effectively ruptured his spleen and arced down through his thickly layered abdominals' which had been burnt to an unhealthy shade of dark black.

Without a second to lose Shepard quickly hastened to his minute supply of medi-gel, a grimace never leaving his face as he realised his unfortunate predicament; he only had one remaining supply of medi-gel at his disposal. Acting on instinct alone, Shepard applied the patch directly to his stomach hoping against hope that it would be enough to alleviate the disorientating pain once and for all.

Unfortunately this wasn't to be the case as a dull pain remained. A stern reminder of his battles and of how fragile his life truly was, any fight could end up being his last. Then, before Shepard had time to prepare himself, a Particle beam scorched the earth directly at his feet before more shots were fired in his direction. Retreating groggily, Shepard avoided the numerous beams without having a clue of where he was. Left essentially immobile and unable to stand, Shepard forced himself to crawl to the nearest cover point available.

Particle beams following his awkward movement with a burning intensity…

"There's too many of them… Tali, on your flank!"

Was that… Garrus?

What was he doing here? That was definitely Garrus's voice, there was no doubt about it, but why was he even here? And had he been warning Tali of an incoming attack? Wait, why was Tali even here? And where was here even?

Unanswered questions continued to flood Shepard's mind while he attempted to regain his bearings. Using the wall for support, Shepard willed his body to stand under its own power but when that failed he instead slid further up the wall, his knees trembling under his weight. Staggering slightly, his vision remaining hazy and unfocused, Shepard peaked around his cover point and observed a most unsettling sight.

His personally assigned squad of Garrus and Tali were being steadily overwhelmed by an insect like form better known as the Collectors. Or 'the genetically altered Protheans' if you were granted with such knowledge.

Realising his comrade's desperate situation, Shepard attempted to re-join the fight. The Commander's legs giving out with only a few weakly misplaced steps. But nevertheless the Commander proceeded onwards; unsteadily, stumbling and collapsing as he made his way towards his outnumbered squad. Despite the amount of times Shepard collapsed, grunting in unimaginable pain, he never gave up pounding his fists into the dirt whenever he fell. Continuing to fight until the bitter end.

But when his legs could no longer move, and were too weak to even attempt such a feat, Shepard proceeded to crawl towards his comrades… the crippling pain continuing to wrack his body as he moved and fought through the dirt towards his team. To Shepard the pain was becoming nothing more than an annoyance, a necessity which he could not feed on for energy, as he was forced to watch his squad desperately fighting for their lives against insurmountable odds.

He had to support his comrades, his brothers and sister in arms, but more importantly than that he had to save his friends. How could he not be there for the people who depended on him, who had supported him despite the hopelessness and insanity of his task? A task which had been set before him by the Illusive Man, leader of the pro-human terrorist group; Cerberus.

Tali and Garrus, the very same people who had remained loyal in a time when others had simply turned their backs on him, seeking the misguided notion of stability and ignorance in a fast approaching war. Fearing that he was nothing more than a dangerous liability, perhaps even believing he was nothing more than a physical copy of the man they once knew and admired.

It was their lack of trust that hurt Shepard the most. He had fought both for them and with them, and at times he had even fought their personal wars in their stead. Absorbed the blows which had been intended for his comrades and been there when they were hurting, whether that be physically or mentally.

But the one time Shepard actually needed them, the one time he had personally asked for their help, they had simply turned him away. Inconvenienced perhaps by his suicidal plan or maybe even by his return, okay that last part may have been taking things too far. Of course they were overjoyed to see him again, back from the dead no less, but the fact remained that when he had required their help, required their aid; they refused, abandoning him when he needed them most.

Even Ashley.

Ashley, the Alliance bred woman that he had grown to love and desire to protect for the rest of his life. The woman who he thought reciprocated these similar feelings and desires in turn. Ashley, the woman who had opened herself up to Shepard, both her heart and soul, willingly. Who had even shared his bed before the assault on Ilos.

… Even she left him.

But despite this Shepard knew that Ashley cared greatly for him, at least in some form or another, perhaps even loved him but that was only when it was convenient for her. When all the stars aligned and she saw the paragon that he was often referred to through both his actions and the vids. But it seemed when things weren't working out so well, or when Shepard was forced to make impossible, life altering, decisions; not only did Ashley condemn him for these actions but she also left because of them.

The memory on Horizon still hurt, leaving him emotionally numb and equally confused. Ashley had the audacity to question his decisions, decisions that left little room for subtlety or room to manoeuvre. He knew it now; Ashley would not have been able to make the right decision had she been in his place, perhaps the right decision in a moral sense but not one which would have been for the betterment of the entire galaxy. She was not strong enough; she would not have been able to handle the responsibility, the guilt, which went along with such a situation. When pressure and expectation lied solely on her shoulders alone, Ashley would not have been able to take it.

So, Shepard made the hard choices. The choices which would influence the lives of millions of people within the galactic sector. He made these choices so that his friends wouldn't have to. So that they could feign ignorance and continue to live their lives in the knowledge that they had not caused the deaths of over a thousand people. Not to mention the near extinction of almost an entire species.

That was right; one choice which continued to haunt and cripple him more than any other, a choice that had resulted in the deaths of around 300,000 Batarian lives within the Bahak system of the Viper Nebula, who died without warning in a single wave of fire and destruction. Had Dr Kenson not interrupted his transmission to the Batarians home worlds then maybe, just maybe, they could have evacuated enough people to sustain the fledgling population.

But it wasn't to be. Despite Shepard's best intentions, the Batarians were led to near extinction through his actions, and his actions alone. The remaining Batarians remaining stretched out across the galaxy, increasingly thin on numbers which were already being depleted by their meek and cannon fodder like status. To most races, the supposedly superior races, they were seen as nothing more than scavengers, fodder fire and vagrants.

This was not however Shepard's primate concern at the time. He did not have sufficient time to dwell on such matters because there had been a far greater purpose behind his destructive actions back on the Bahak system. That was right, out in the darkest rim of the galaxy laid a far greater evil, an evil which had annihilated and harvested all advanced civilisations before them with startling efficiency and secrecy.

This left Commander Shepard at an intolerable impasse as he was forced to not only deal with the persistent threat of the Collectors but also the much larger, overwhelming, threat on the horizon. Lying in wait out at the edge of the galaxy was a synthetic race known as the Reapers; the catalyst to their world's end, the vanguard of their destruction.

This was not all the Commander had to deal with however as there was also the hanging threat of Cerberus. He was still a member of that particular organisation, at least for the moment, renowned for its brutish tactics and human centric views. Even within his own organization, Shepard was a wanted man whether dead, perhaps this time in the more permanent sense, or alive for questioning.

Yes, Shepard had made many enemies but never had an enemy bested him like this before, lying sprawled on the ground while blood oozed from his body. Here he was, the great Commander Shepard the last hope of humanity and the supposed saviour of the galaxy. Bested by a well calculated Collector ambush on what was supposed to be a routine mission within the Terminus system.

...

...

Returning to his immediate surroundings, Shepard watched as the remaining Collector forces surrounded his allies, their number growing by the second. There number far too great for even such seasoned veterans to deal with. As if a sign pointing this blatant fact, Garrus's weapon jammed unexpectedly, the weapon being hastily discarded as he reverted to hand to hand combat.

Of course such a tactic was fruitless against such a formidable opponent and Shepard could do little else but watch as Collector numbers surrounded Garrus completely, the image of the Turian disappearing within the throng of insect life forms. Then, Garrus was knocked to the ground to the ground with a sickening thud, rendered immobile and unconscious by his aggressors. Sickly blue blood streaming from a protruding cut at the base of his skull adding to the numerous collections of burns which he had already acquired during his time on Omega.

Panicked, Shepard's focus shifted to Tali who was being gradually overwhelmed by the persistent Collector forces that continued to force her back into an unwinnable position. A single shot piercing her highly sophisticated enviro-suit before the safety protocols quickly kicked into life, compartmentalizing the wound to prevent the further spread of contaminants; the injection of antibiotics keeping the infection under control, for now at least.

And yet, despite his friends struggle, there desperation, all Shepard could do was lie defeated. He was so fatigued, grunting at the unreasonable amount of pain crippling his body while the blood continued to pour past his dented armour where deep bullet holes had been lodged within his body. Shepard's hand however continued to grasp his heavy pistol despite the pain and blood that soaked his currently occupied hand.

As if they had communicated telepathically, the Collector's all turned to face Shepard at the same time, observing him as he continued to crawl towards his friends who now lay motionless at their feet. Their eyes trained on the X-6F Carnifex hand cannon which he held loosely at his side. The only weapon he now possessed in his usually limitless arsenal. An unnerving predicament given the fact that he always preferred to carry an incredible assortment of weapons into battle with him; he was a soldier after all and preferred the luxury of choice.

However on this particular occasion his ammo had been completely used up. The recent stop at the village's power cell complex hadn't been enough to adequately reimburse him of his ammo which now lay within the bodies of over a hundred Collector corpses. It seemed like the ambush started many hours ago, why hadn't the Commander seen it? The collectors the dealt with were cannon fodder, nothing else.

At the movement within his peripheral vision, Shepard's concentration heightened as a lone Collector walked its way towards him and away from the pack who watched on without any emotion what so ever. The creatures walk screamed superiority and victory as he pompously walked around him, his stance displaying dominance over Shepard, and humanity in general, while his strides were calm and equally unnerving.

…

…

"Assuming Direct Control!"

As the words permeated the air Shepard watched on as the Collector before him retreated slightly, his back hunched and his hands grasping at his overly large and mutated head in what appeared to be incredible pain. The Collector hovering above the ground while it convulsed as light gradually began to seep from its body, Shepard shielded his eye from the atrocity before him as the creatures body emitted disorientating light across his eyries.

And then, in a flash of condensed light, the essence of his greatest enemy appeared. The supposed leader of a superior race whose only objective, it seemed, was to rid the world of every prominent species in existence. It was the very same entity that had sought Shepard's demise and had the power to control a Collector even within the realms of dark space. The most powerful and perhaps even the first Reaper to have ever existed; Harbinger.

As the creature approached, Shepard remained completely still, rigid, as Harbinger's eyes bored into his; the latter's body moving towards the Shepard with a calculating menace. Shepard watching as the entity known as Harbinger knelt beside him, a hand roughly inspecting the wounds that had been inflicted upon his body, wounds which were still bleeding profusely even now.

As Harbinger turned the Commander over, Shepard's couldn't help but gasp in pain which intensified due to such a brutish and uncaring handling of his person. Battered and broken, Shepard finally relinquished his hold on his heavy pistol, the weapon slipping through his fingers as Harbinger proceeded to throw it away carelessly. The pain was unimaginable and it continued to wrack his well-defined, yet beaten, body, his vision turning swimming and turning upon its axis at a truly dizzying speed.

"Your minions have failed you, Shepard. You have no one left," Harbinger murmured sinisterly, "How does it feel? To know you have fallen so low and yet so far?"

It was a truly sickening voice, a robotic voice which rang across the barren village replacing that of its formerly speechless host. In the past Harbinger had always claimed to have known where he would fall and here he was, Commander Shepard, succumbing to his pain just like Harbinger had foreseen.

Grimacing as he sat up, Shepard faced Harbinger with hatred pouring from his eyes as he replied curtly "I…have not…fallen."

"Why, if this isn't human conviction at its most finest! But haven't you fought long enough, Shepard? Why must you persist? Why fight for these people…" Harbinger growled, motioning towards Garrus and Tali who lay unconscious, and oblivious to their turn in fortunes. Harbinger was signalling towards his two friends, a Collector carrying them both forward and dropping them unceremoniously at Harbinger's feet.

The Commander was, however, unsure if Harbinger was singling them out because of their allegiance to him… or if they were being singled out because of the species they represented. A sign that no race could stand before the might of Harbinger and that no man's noble goal could stand in the way of progress.

"…When they continue to fight against you?" Harbinger stated, "You are facing annihilation on your own. Abandoned by the very galaxy you wish to maintain. A single man cannot hope to best a limitless army. So then tell me, why? Why do you continue to fight us and delay the inevitable?"

For once Harbinger displayed no dominance as he spoke, no alter motive present in his words but intrigue. It was all most as if he, Harbinger, found Shepard fascinating; the first member of a species to disrupt his plans to such a considerable extent. He had to know, why? Why had he persisted when all other sentient life forms either ignored their imminent arrival or fell with relative ease?

"Because someone has to," Shepard coughed, "Someone has to give them hope… To be the example…To show them that you can be beaten…"

With every word Shepard struggled to find his breath, his lungs caving in due to the lack of oxygen available to him at the present time. But despite this painful measure Shepard still had the power to verbally confront one of the Old Machine, taking no pleasure in the fact that he was helpless and at the mercy of Harbinger who he considered the face of his greatest enemy.

"But we can't be beaten, Shepard. We are your genetic destiny, the Harbinger of your perfection. We fight as one while you stand alone." Harbinger continued to kneel over Shepard, staring into his eyes as he spoke hoping to recognize even the slightest trace of discomfort or perhaps even deceit in his words.

"I-I may stand alone, now… But once its time, we'll be ready… We'll all be ready for you… People may say that it's impossible, that we are fighting a lost cause… But we will prove them wrong and we will defeat you… Just like we did Sovereign!"

…

Silence immediately pervaded the atmosphere after Shepard's words; neither spoke to the other they merely stared at one another and in Harbinger's case in a state of deep contemplation.

"You would fight for these people?" Harbinger lifted Garrus's head, looking Shepard squarely in the eye before throwing him back down to the ground, "The very same people who placed this burden upon you alone? Who left you to fend for yourself against a power you cannot hope to defeat. And yet you would still fight for them?"

With the momentum shifting, it was Shepard's turn to reflect on Harbinger's frighteningly honest words. Contemplating the sacrifices he had made in his bid to delay this inevitable war, all those actions had led him to this very moment and a single thought. After so much fighting and so much loss it could only surmount to just one single thought.

'_I'm so tired of this war…'_

He wasn't merely tired in the sense of feeling apprehensive about the upcoming war, oh no, he also felt fatigued both body and soul. The responsibility which had been placed on the Commander's shoulders had been wearing him down since his initiation into the Spectre's and after years of service he finally realised something. He was nothing more than a puppet- for the Council and now for Cerberus- a fine example of the human endurance used to further aims which were not his and were to the advantage of less capable hands.

This sudden realisation sickened him beyond compare; he was nothing more than an elaborate tool… a capable soldier who bowed to the whims of lesser men, whether they be human or otherwise.

He was so sick of being used, and over utilized; sick of having his achievements hidden under the rug, sick of fighting for a dishonest and crass organization such as Cerberus, sick of the Council's flailing loyalty and of being criticized by the very people who he had saved at the cost of human lives.

Shepard despised the responsibility that the Council and Cerberus had place on him. He was a soldier, probably the most capable soldier in the galaxy, and yet they expected him to fight this war alone or even refused that such a war existed in the first place. They were fools, the whole lot of them. But they were not alone, even the people who ignored his frequent warnings, they were fools too. And yet they had the temerity to label him as a mad man, to bury his accomplishments so they could live in peace while denouncing every claim he made to the contrary.

All of those sacrifices; Kaiden's death brought about by the Council's inaction and delayed communication, families lying buried on Eden's hope due to the Council's inability to notice a Geth invasion. And how had he been rewarded for his actions, for saving lives which included the Councils? That was right he had been rewarded with distrust, inaction and accountability for any and all actions which painted the Council in a bad light.

Jacob was right; Shepard accomplished the impossible, what lesser men could never have been able to comprehend. He wasn't being smug when he said this because he really did things which others could only dream of; he was a resourceful and capable man. Able to take in a situation with only a second of planning, acting accordingly and efficiently when his team required it; He was faultless in his execution and yet the Council seemed to almost despise him because of it.

He had saved the council, destroyed Sovereign, allowed Saren to die an honourable death by his own hands; battled the Blood Pack, Blue Sun's and Eclipse Group. Shepard had even been a pivotal figure in the team that had fought back against the Geth who had attempted to invade Council space during the attack of the Citadel. Not to mention the numerous mercenary groups and Organisations who had been affected in some small way by his actions.

But all of his efforts, his remarkable accomplishments had never been acknowledged. The Council had hidden his every act away from the public and the prying eyes of the media. How could he be so over looked? He didn't particularly mind the lack of recognition but they were clear signs of the Reapers emergence, and he had repeatedly warned the council to that effect. They needed to prepare for the Reapers forthcoming attack. Needed to prepare for a war greater than any they had ever fought before.

Right now, the galaxy needed unity, and stability, more than ever but as the Reapers imminent return came ever closer Shepard's warnings were being increasingly ignored despite the obvious signs to the contrary.

Returning his gaze to the insect life form in front of him, Shepard remembered the previous questions which had been spoken with such honesty.

So, Shepard responded in turn with both conviction and determination. No, he would not let Harbinger dissuade him. This was all an elaborate attempt at sabotage and the Commander was not about to fall for it.

"Yes… I will fight for them… But I won't be fighting alone… I'll have the support of the entire galaxy ready to face you… And we'll wipe you off the face of our galaxy and all galaxies to come."

…

Harbinger merely stood for a moment, visibly frustrated by Shepard's illogical response. It didn't make sense. As an artificial Intelligence, it had calculated all the possible outcomes of this war and of the galaxies overall participation within it. For both, it had come up with a final figure and that figure was small… very small indeed.

Where was Shepard's belief coming from…?

"You stand alone Shepard! The races of this galaxy are in turmoil, fractured and segregated; fighting a meaningless battle for a meaningless cause. When we arrive and claim waste to this galaxy, they will not help you. You will stand alone."

…

…

Harbinger was right…

The Galaxies structure and their allegiances were both fragile and thoroughly transparent. The Galaxy was not moving forward as a collective and cohesive unit. In fact it was the complete opposite. There was tension between every single species to at least some extent and in some situations there was out right war.

In the case of the Quarians, they continued their time consuming war against the Geth in the hope of one day regaining their former home world which had been claimed by those they helped create. To Shepard it was a needless war costing more lives than were necessary; but, unlike the Quarians who maintained dwindling numbers, the Geth could easily replenish their numbers without fear of running out. They were machines after all and could continue this fight for an untold number of years if need be, could the Quarian's really hold out against such an everlasting opponent?

Would Tali ever return to her home world, Shepard would see it done if it was in his power but… whose side would he really be on when they time came? Would the full context of the situation cause him to re-evaluate his allegiance, something told him the Quarian's were keeping something from him and maybe the cause of the Geth's uprising would be just that.

And while the Geth and Quarian's fought amongst each other, the Council and the traverse were still unyielding and unreasonable when it came to matters within their jurisdiction. The Council greatly despised the Traverse and the feeling was very much mutual in that regard. Neither side advised war but if there was so much as an incident concerning either side then the possibility for all-out war would most certainly increase tenfold.

As for the Krogan, they still reacted violently to any outsiders due to their treatment at the hands of Salarian doctors. It was these doctors who had mercilessly sterilized their entire species through the creation of the Genophage, a thank you for ridding the galaxy of the Rachni and for their momentary rush of blood to the head. Now, the Krogan were being forced to fight and die without a hope of raising a strong, healthy and impressive child of which to gloat of.

And then there was the Council, who he had sacrificed human lives to save, who not only disapproved of his Reaper warnings but publically denounced their authenticity.

Perhaps they preferred to believe that the event would never occur at all or more likely that the threat didn't even exist in the first place, other than in Shepard's head. That Shepard was merely inciting the crowd with no ammunition at his disposal so that he looked like nothing more than a desperate phony who merely wanted to be adored and appreciated for his efforts… and insanity.

Truthfully though, Shepard would not have even wanted recognition. He would have liked his work to be at least acknowledged, of course, not for his own personal gain but so people could see how hard he was fighting for both them and his belief. How the galaxy needed to, now more than ever, band together and defeat the supposedly unstoppable force known as the Reapers.

They could still win this war. Sovereign now lied dead through their combined efforts, a sign to humanity and the rest of the galaxy that the Reapers were very much alive. But more importantly, that they can, and will, be defeated no matter the cost.

"They will come… When the time comes we will all band together and face you… You claim to be an unstoppable force and yet you hide in the darkness like cowards… While we stand in the open… Ready to fight any threat that presents itself… Starting with you!" Shepard snarled as he glared from Harbinger to the Collectors standing patiently behind its colossal form.

"You are ignorant. This changes nothing, you cannot stop us… I see through your lies… I see your doubt, your anger but most of all I see your pain. This war has changed you before it has even begun… The more you persist the more you will suffer, why continue if all you feel is pain?"

…

And there it was again…

The brutal honesty which continued to eat away at him…

How did Harbinger know? How did he see right through him, to his deepest and most unrealised fears? Harbinger was right. Shepard was indeed tired, angry and most of all suffering because of it. Through all of the Commander's speech his words had rung with a hollow tone, as if he didn't even believe himself anymore.

And in some small corner of Shepard's mind…

He wanted it to end.

Was that such a bad thing?

Hadn't he given enough already? More so than any other man, woman or child in this entire galaxy? Why should he care anymore? Why should he have to continually suffer in a war where he stood alone, in a war that he was fighting singlehandedly?

As a young boy he had always wanted to be a soldier, to fight and overcoming impossible odds for the sake of honour and all that nonsense. To avenge the memory of his family who died on Mindoir. But now, now that he was battle worn and empty, Shepard would have liked nothing more than to put down his weapons and live a more quiet and fulfilling life. He had faced death on numerous occasions, seen families and loved ones being torn a part through his mistakes and miscalculations. He wanted; no he needed to live for himself now, to be selfish at least one last time.

"You have suffered enough Shepard… You deserve an honourable death by my hand… Do not feel ashamed by this defeat… Your name will remain once this petty civilisation is no more… the next generation of sentient beings will forever remember the man who almost defeated the Reapers but ultimately failed."

…

Shepard was content with this, slowly closing his eyes as he welcomed deaths cold embrace… to rid himself of this pointless war, this sorry excuse of a life. Perhaps he would be reborn in a new age, an age where the threat of the Reapers would no longer exist. Where he could finally live a life without the faces of the dead on his conscience, maybe he could live a life worth living?

'_Let someone else fight the Reapers…'_

'_Let someone else suffer…'_

'_I've given all I could…'_

'_Now it's up to the rest of the Galaxy to play their part.'_

Without a moment's hesitation, Harbinger's hand drifted towards the discarded hand cannon lying directly beside him. It was a well utilised weapon which had once been held within such capable and proficient hands, a weapon which had claimed many lives, a weapon which would now take Shepard's life too. Slowly, Harbinger drew the pistol from the ground and positioned it directly against Shepard's temple, Shepard's eyes remaining closed as he welcomed his final fate.

Harbinger, taking his time as he took in the moment when humanities greatest hope and the Galaxies last possible saviour fell by his hand. It had been so very easy.

…

…

"Move, move, move…"

With the sounds of an airship coming into the Commander's vicinity, Shepard's eyes shot open, the unmistakeable sight of the Normandy crossing his vision as it fired repeated blasts at the uncoordinated Collector forces that scattered upon impact. Unsurprisingly, Harbinger's concentration was broken for a second as he continued to stare at the infuriatingly familiar ship that had been a thorn in his side for so very long. In a frenzy, the remaining Collector forces continued to shoot tamely their bullets and particle beams being easily evaded by the Joker's nimble fingers.

"They will not stop us…" Harbinger sneered as he returned his attention to Shepard, anger and hatred seething within his bloodless eyes at the mere thought of the man escaping from his grasp.

On instinct, Shepard had attempted to create as much distance between himself and Harbinger the moment he had seen the SR-2 Normandy fly into view. But despite his head start the Reaper controlled Collector proceeded to marched towards him at an alarming pace. Shepard instantly halting his retreat as his own Hand Cannon was placed against his cranium, looking up with trepidation at the victorious sight of the entity that would claim his life that day.

"Your time is at an end Shepard…"

As the battle waged on between factions Shepard finally realised something…

This was it. His inevitable fate was drawing to a close. And as Shepard closed his eyes, bracing himself for his imminent and prolonged death, a thought suddenly occurred to him; a thought which he had not considered despite its relative importance. Commander Shepard, the hero and saviour of many, didn't want to die. He had people who relied on him, people who cared for him. Why would he want to disappoint them now? Why would he want to hurt them? Why would he leave Miranda now that they were finally an item?

'_No I don't want to die…'_

'_Not now, not when I promised Miranda I'd return to her…'_

"Shepard!"

"We can't reach him…"

"Miranda?! What are you doing? Get back into position!"

Just as the voice had ebbed its way towards him, Harbinger was suddenly lifted into the air by an unknown force but before Shepard could locate its source Harbinger was thrown into the wall at a tremendous speed, Harbinger's skull ringing with an ominous, ear ringing crack. The Collector's Reaper infused body returning to the ground directly before Shepard's feet.

There was only one person who could perform such a feat, only one person who could save Shepard in so many ways. And as he turned towards his saviour- rather gingerly he might add- Shepard was unsurprised to see none other than Miranda Lawson staring back at him. Concentration and fear etched across her features as she was forced to withdraw back towards the group, the Collectors pushing the rest of the Normandy's team back while their numbers trailed away insignificantly.

As Shepard turned towards the group he finally noticed that Miranda had not come to protect him alone, no, in fact his entire team had come to his rescue. Within the group, Kasumi's lightening quick agility was on full display for all to see as she propelled herself behind two unsuspecting Collectors, in one seamless transition, before silencing them with two distinct blasts from her heavy pistol.

Meanwhile, Shepard continued to observe his rescuers as Jacob, Thane, Grunt, a notably disgruntled Jack, Legion, Mordin Solus, Samara and Zaeed sprinted into the fight. Their favourite weapons of choice easily dispatching the helpless Collectors who were nothing but weapon fodder to his teams superior ability. No army in the world would have stood a chance against his formidable team, Shepard knew this but still to see his team come to his rescue brought a rather pleasant smile to his face.

"Shepard, look out!"

Turning just in time, Shepard expretly grabbed a hold of the Hand Cannon which had been directed towards at his head, his quick reflexes diverting a single shot past his head and into the ground below him. Struggling under Harbinger's weight, while his body screamed in protest, Shepard attempted to end the live of the Collector/ Reaper who had almost killed him.

In the silence of the ensuing battle, Shepard struggled against Harbinger's hold; the tide slowly beginning to turn in Shepard's favour as he forced the gun to direct towards Harbinger. grunting in frustration, Harbinger attempted to drive his elbows into Shepard's face in a bid to gain even the smallest of openings. But Shepard would not succumb to this kind of tactic. Rolling over, Shepard pressed his forearms repeatedly into the Collectors head, grunting in satisfaction as Harbinger acknowledged the pain directly within his oversized head.

However this action did nothing more than infuriate Harbinger as the Reaper rolled Shepard back down towards the floor, pinning him in a desperate situation as the gun was slowly turning in his direction. At this realisation, Shepard gave his last ounce of energy forcing the Hand Cannon back towards Harbinger who couldn't exert his limited power while still encased within such a primitive being.

BANG!

…

…

Gasping in horror, Miranda quickly turned towards the sound of gunfire, the battle having been long since over by now, and saw the unmistakeable sight of a Collector propped against Shepard's limp and seemingly lifeless body. An unmistakeable stream of flesh, red blood seeping from below the two intertwined life forms.

"Shepard…" Miranda whispered to herself, observing the scene before her like it was a nightmare from one of the worst dreams she could possibly imagine. Completely frozen to the spot, Miranda silently begged for her lover to move or to at least set her trembling body at ease but no movement was forthcoming.

Unsteadily, Miranda began to walk towards her fallen first love with trepidation and fear cloaking her face. Her eyes were wide, terrified; her hands limp which was further proven as her weapon slipped from between her fingertips lying unattended at the foot of a corpse she had previously disposed of. This couldn't be happening, Miranda had disposed of that Collector, she was sure of it. So then why was it lying on top of Shepard? And why did red blood, blood associated with humans, beginning to cover the ground where the two individuals lay motionless.

'_No…'_

'_Oh god please no…'_

'_Shepard, get up…'_

'_Wake up…'_

"Shepard!" Miranda screamed, tearing past the crumpled bodies of the Collectors which lay between her and the one man she had promised to protect. The one man she had come to love against all of her best judgements. She didn't know what was happening anymore. All she knew was that the most important man in her life wasn't moving and that he heart was breaking every second she was away from Commander Shepard.

…

…

"…It seems like your wish for death will have to wait, Commander," Harbinger stated tiredly, "Not even your friends will grant you peace… Tell me? Will you continue to fight… or will you merely succumb to your own grief and end your life like… so many sentient life forms have done before you?"

Harbinger's voice was weakening by the second perhaps the result of his effort and exertion during their struggle but more than likely due to the single bullet lodged directly within its mangled heart. Shepard meanwhile continued to remain motionless beneath Harbinger's limp form as exhaustion and pain continued to cripple his body. Forcing himself to speak despite the pain which rattled his mind, Shepard attempted to settle a few things which the now defeated Reaper.

"I will not die… Not until I have defeated you… You witnessed me at my weakest, at my most vulnerable, but because of that you will now see me at my strongest, at my most dominant… I will wipe you from the face of our galaxy and make sure you never harm another life form again… As you once said… I will be your salvation through destruction." Shepard sniggered, before the Collector became limp and lifeless… the supposed Harbinger of all life left to ponder and fear a man who had now come to fear death above all else.

If there was one thing that Shepard had learnt from this day then it was that he was now far stronger than before because he finally come to fear death. A man who welcomes death is nothing more than an unworthy hero, a man who displays cowardice as he believes in the age old notion of self-sacrifice for the greater good. Leaving friends and loved ones behind to suffer needlessly, why seek death when you could look for the alternative which promised life?

He was a stronger man now that he had been blessed with a thirst for life. After all, a man who fights to remain in this world is far stronger than the man who welcomes death because he had someone worth coming back to, someone worthy living for. All his suffering would be worth it if he could return to her side, to Miranda Lawson's side, to the woman who prized above all the men she had ever known.

Shepard no longer welcomed death. In fact he welcomed something far more powerful and endearing, friendship, family and of course… the most powerful emotion of all, love.

"Shepard!"

Miranda hurtled towards him, fearing the worst, as she removed the limp Collector from Shepard's body with one wave of her hand. The Collectors body being pulled off Shepard violently before slamming through a sturdy and well-built wall such was her haste to reach the man she had come to love after all their time together.

"Miranda…" Shepard whispered fondly, smiling at the beautiful sight that welcomed him.

Kneeling before him, a hand clasped in his, Miranda cupped the Comannder's face tenderly. Yes, none other than Miranda Lawson, the Cerberus officer, who had remained closed off and isolated to all but one man in particular, was looking at Shepard with both love and affection.

"S-Shepard… come on we need to get you to Dr Chakwas immediately." Miranda commanded, gently taking Shepard by the shoulder and helping him stands while the Commander leaned on him for support.

It was at this point, walking alongside the busied Cerberus Officer, that Shepard noticed a familiar yet warm feeling envelop him as he observed his crew rushing to his aid and questioning him worriedly as to whether he was all right. But despite his injured demeanour Shepard could only smile as he listened to his team talk; some energetically, In Mordin's case, and others in greater concern which was clearly displayed by her worried lover who repeatedly asked him questions after questions in an attempt to keep him conscious.

Before the two could move too far, Shepard was forced to instantly halt in his steps as a bizarre view became visibly clearer. Finally understanding the bizarre occurrence, Shepard turned to Miranda with a raised eye brow which did not go unnoticed by the startled brunette.

"W-what?" Miranda asked, concern plainly heard in her voice.

"Where you the one who threw that collector off me," Shepard stated, motioning to the Collector who had been thrown with enough force to derail the strongest freight train ever designed, "A bit keen to reach me, weren't you?"

Puzzled, Miranda turned in the direction of Shepard's finger and froze instantly at the sight. It looked slightly over dramatic; the Collector buried under about fifteen foot of concrete in Miranda's haste to reach the Commander.

"Don't be silly. What made you think that was me…? It could have been anyone?" Miranda mumbled as she purposely walked Shepard away from the rather embarrassing scene she had personally created, and a scene which Shepard had correctly interpreted.

"Tell me Miss Lawson? Were you that eager to save me?" Shepard teased, "That you felt the need to propel the Collector's body off of me?"

"I… Shut up!"

Shepard couldn't hold back the laughter he had been keeping at bay, Miranda's flushed appearance, and unpredictable behaviour was just too much. So with a smirk, Shepard walked straight through towards the docked Normandy which had settled somewhere nearby. While he gazed at Miranda in a fond manner more than aware of the impact it was having on the spluttering brunette who continued to look away with a bright blush crossing her face.

Maybe things weren't so bad after all.

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Author's notes: This is an updated version of my previous one shot. Looking back at this one shot though I feel incredibly embarrassed but I still wanted to update it for prosperity's sake and as a reminder that I have gotten substantially better since I created this story. It honestly seemed like a good idea at the time but the execution lacked a little something, refinement maybe?

I hope you liked it; I personally looked through it so it should be clearer than the previous version which is now no longer in circulation, thank god. And for those who are keen followers of A Moment for The Fallen, I haven't given up on that story… I just have to prioritize things and recently I have fallen in love with the Harry Potter world once again, so I'll be working on that and Empty Places which is my biggest story.

Reviews etc are very much appreciated; opinions, praise or even constructive criticism even more so. I will of course reply like I usually do so if you have any questions or issues, I.e. grammar, please feel free to contact me.

All the best and I hope to be back in this Fan Fiction section soon, with a new update for A Moment for the Fallen.

:D


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